Percy Take the Wheel

four

"Percy's freaking me out," Ron stated bluntly in the little, mutinous Weasley pow-wow gathered in Ginny's room. Ron's room was too orange, and the twins' room too... Dangerous.

"He spoke to you?" Fred asked, looking a little too eager for information, and Ron wondered when Percy had become the equivalent of the house ghost.

"Yeah," he replied shortly, "Though he wasn't really all there, if you get what I mean."

"He was acting like he was on Calming Draught, like last year when Mum dosed him for a week after he was made Prefect," Ginny put in, "Remember how he was all flat and weird? He just did his chores and slept without saying anything unless you made him."

"Not that it was much of a difference," George joked bitterly, but admitted with a little reluctance in his tone, "He was like that when I talked to him, too."

"It's different," Ginny scowled. Percy had never been her favorite brother; that was Bill. In fact, he only really ranked above Ron, and only occasionally above the twins when they were being particularly obnoxious, but he hadn't been completely awful lately. She couldn't remember the last time before... all this when Percy had spent so much time wiping tears and snot and giving awkward, tight hugs, but here he was, trying. At least, until he went mad while arguing with George.

"It is," Fred agreed, sending George into a quiet scowl because he couldn't seriously argue against it, "But what can we do about it?"

Ginny drew herself up, because she had a plan. A terrible, Terrible Plan that Percy may never forgive them for, which would require them to risk the sanctity of their cheeks and get scolded for their manners. But she knew there was one person who Percy never dared to disobey.

She explained, to great protest from her brothers that eventually died down to a sullen resignation. It was the Only Way.

Percy, meanwhile, was blissfully unaware of his siblings' mutinous plans, only hearing the quiet murmur from downstairs, but unable to muster the energy to be suspicious. No screams, no problem. Besides, the floors could really use a good scrubbing... Thus it was that Percy was blind-sided, on his hands and knees and completely mussed when his Great-Aunt Muriel strode into the room.

Even through the induced haze there was a quiet ping of panic.

The Only Way rose a single, judging eyebrow and... sniffed. Condescendingly. "Percival," she greeted, and Percy scrambled to his feet, unrolling sleeves and pant legs and hastily jamming his robes back on over the work clothes.

"Ma'am," he replied, sketching half a bow before he nearly fell over, trying to straighten his appearance and observe proper manners at the same time. She continued to look him over, and Percy felt the calm slowly regain control, but fought to maintain proper posture. He wasn't entirely sure why she was here, but he felt letting on he was anything but normal would result in something unpleasant.

She hooked a finger under his chin, tilting his head and peering sharply into his eyes. The next second she'd cuffed Percy upside the head, and he was stumbling a step back to escape the light blows.

"You idiot boy!" she scolded, finally abandoning her assault, "What are you using?"

"Nothing," Percy lied, but she fixed him with a look that had him amending his answer out of the memory of habitual terror rather than the actual emotion, "Just a bit of tea."

Muriel's expression slackened ever so slightly in shock, "You're using her setup?"

"You knew, too?" Percy asked, rather than respond to an obvious question with an obvious answer, "Who didn't know?"